


Storytime: The Speckled Band

by JohnAmendAll



Series: Storytime [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Meta Fic, This Time Round
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izzy really shouldn't have left 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' so near the book of fairytales. For their next story, the toddlers are getting Sparrow and Nightingale as Holmes and Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

As usual, the Supervisor was nearly invisible behind his newspaper, and showed no signs of noticing Izzy's presence until she was within feet of him. 

"Ah, good morning, Miss S," he said. 

Izzy waited, but as ever he wasn't giving anything away. 

"Anything special today?" she asked. 

"Nothing much. Little Donna's parents were so impressed with how we looked after her that they're entrusting her to our care again..." 

Izzy briefly conjured up the mental image of the sugar-crazed tantrum thrower whom she and the other staff had inevitably nicknamed 'Prima'. 

"... Oh yes, and do you happen to have a secret admirer?" 

"What?" 

"A parcel arrived, addressed to you." 

Izzy looked around. 

"Where is it?" 

"Out in the lobby." And hearing no further questions, the Supervisor returned to his reading. 

  


Izzy glanced over the contents of the package in some perplexity. A letter of apology, for 'any disruption' that Doctor Watson and his colleague may have caused on their recent visit. Plus a box of sugar comfits, and... a book. She drew the slim volume out, and glanced at the flyleaf. "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" — a modern paperback copy rather than a valuable first edition, but at least Watson had autographed it. 

Still, the children would be arriving shortly, so these things had to be got out of the way at once. In short order the letter was pinned to the notice board, the book quickly pushed into the bookcase, and the sweets locked in the Supervisor's desk until time could be found to analyse them and see if they were safe to eat. Or they could just feed one to baby Jack, of course. 

⁂

And now, once again, it was story time. The children were already assembling round her, and she reached for the storybook, wondering what it would come up with this time. As she pulled it out, a single sheet of paper floated down to the ground. 

Izzy snatched it up. It was the flyleaf from the new book, still bearing Doctor Watson's signature. _Must have been a very cheap binding_ , she thought, looking up at the bookcase. _But hang on, where's the rest of it?_

With increasing unease, she looked along each shelf in turn. But the "Adventures" were nowhere to be seen. And finally, her attention turned back to the storybook. It definitely had even more pages in it than last time. Her heart sank. 

The children were getting restless, and she had to do something. As so often happened, the storybook fell open in her hands — this time on a page that looked suspiciously new. 

"The Adventure Of The Speckled Band," she read.


	2. Part The First

> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  "In glancing over the notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes..." 

She looked for the end of the sentence, and found it several lines away. The kids would never put up with this sort of thing. Already baby Jo was crawling toward the craft materials cupboard, a hairgrip in her hand and a lock-picking expression on her face. Izzy paused to scoop her up, and decided that some severe editing and paraphrasing was in order. 

> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  It was morning at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson had been woken up early, because a lady had called unexpectedly. 
> 
> _[Inside 221B. A young woman, wearing a black dress and a veil, is sitting by the bay window.]_
> 
> _[The inner door opens. Sally Sparrow and Larry Nightingale enter, as Holmes and Watson respectively. Larry is looking uncomfortable in a frock coat, while Sally is wearing a dressing gown over shirt and trousers.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Well, I know these things often have crossdressing in them, but this is a new one on me. 
> 
> **Larry:**  
>  And me. You break into one lousy haunted house and suddenly you're a weirdness magnet for life. This is what they call 'story space', yeah? Mind you, Sally, dressed like that you look out of this world. 
> 
> **Sally:**  
>  How nice of you. I hope. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  What happened to the real Holmes and Watson? 
> 
> **Sally:**  
>  Haven't you read the books? Holmes retired in 1903. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  And Watson? 
> 
> **Sally:**  
>  He said it gets boring. He was complaining that all he gets to do is say "Astounding, Holmes!" now and again. I don't think that's true. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  No? 
> 
> **Sally:**  
>  Of course not. Sometimes it's "Holmes, this is incredible — how do you do it?" instead. 

Izzy briefly considered throwing the book across the room, but thought better of it.

> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Get in character, you two, and stay there. Ahem. Holmes noticed at once that their visitor was shivering. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  I deduce that you are cold, madam. I'd sit closer to the fire if I were you. 
> 
> **Woman:**  
>  Nought out of one so far. I'm not cold, I'm frightened. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  The woman took off her veil. She was actually quite young, but looked much older, because of the trouble she'd been in. Her hair was already starting to go grey. 
> 
> _[The visitor removes her veil. It's Nyssa, and she doesn't look prematurely aged in the slightest.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Couldn't you at least have made an effort with the makeup? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Certainly not. There's an old Trakenite saying that trying to conceal your true age is a pointless deception that rebounds upon the perpetrator. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Are you sure you didn't just make that up? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  If I did, how would you tell? Ask the only other survivor? Because the Master would be sure to tell you the truth, wouldn't he? 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Oh, I give up. Get on with it. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  I also perceive that you travelled here by train. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Yes, the ticket I'm holding does give it away, doesn't it? Anything else? 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  And that your left arm... **isn't** splashed with mud, so you **didn't** ride some distance in a dog-cart before reaching the station. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Don't tell me, some Trakenite equivalent of that proverb about cleanliness and godliness? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  No. I'm just not making a mess of my outfit for some stupid story. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  First of all the woman told Holmes how she came to hear of him. Her. Whichever. Then she got onto why she'd come. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  My name is Helen Stoner. I was born in India... 
> 
> _[Flashback begins. A family group stands in front of a tatty backcloth showing the Taj Mahal. In the back row are the Fourth Doctor and Romana II, with Nyssa and Tegan in front of them.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  ... and by the time I was two my father had died and my mother had remarried. 
> 
> _[The Fourth Doctor cheerily waves goodbye and strolls off. There is a pause, and then Prubert Gastridge (a large, bearded actor with a certain resemblance to Brian Blessed) walks on to take his place.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  My stepfather came from a long line of aristocrats who'd wasted all their money, but he was doing quite well as a medical doctor until quite by chance he beat his butler to death. 
> 
> _[Nimrod enters.]_
> 
> **Nimrod:**  
>  Excuse me, sir, but burglars got in during the night and made off with a considerable amount of money. 
> 
> _[Gastridge / Dr Roylott, speechless with rage, points accusingly at Nimrod. Shaking his fists, he chases Nimrod off stage. After several seconds of crashing sounds, he returns and tries to look innocent, but Inspector Mackenzie appears and drags him off.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  Once my stepfather was finally let out of prison we returned to England. 
> 
> _[The backcloth goes up, revealing a railway platform. A prominent sign reads PASSENGERS MUST NOT CROSS THE LINE.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  And straight away my mother was killed in a railway accident near Crewe. 
> 
> _[Romana walks unconcernedly straight past the sign and off stage. A train whistle is heard, followed by a scream.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  So then my sister and I settled down with my stepfather in his ancestral home. He got to keep my mother's money as long as we didn't marry, but if we did he had to pay out. 
> 
> _[We now see a crumbling mansion in overgrown grounds.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  We don't get on well with our neighbours, because my stepfather keeps assaulting them. Only last week he threw the blacksmith in the stream. 
> 
> _[A bridge. Standing on it is Mickey, wearing a blacksmith's apron and holding a large hammer.]_
> 
> **Mickey:**  
>  Oh, ha very ha. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  What? 
> 
> **Mickey:**  
>  Black. Smith. I tell you, girl, my sides are splitting here. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Mickey, please, it's just a coincidence. Look, you worked in a garage, so if you'd lived in the nineteenth century you'd be shoeing horses. You're perfect for the role. 
> 
> **Mickey:**  
>  Not much of a role, is it? Getting thrown in the river. I'm fed up with being nothing more than comic relief. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  It's only a little stream. 
> 
> **Mickey:**  
>  Probably contravenes the Health And Safety At Work Act 1974 as well. I reckon if I sued you I could get thousands. I'll go and ask Jackie, she knows about these things. 
> 
> _[He walks determinedly away from the bridge.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  All right, I'll see if I can get the book to recast you. 

She closed the book, counted slowly to ten, and reopened it. 

> _[Mickey is gone. Dalek Sec stands on the bridge.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  I said blacksmith, not Black Dalek! 
> 
> **Sec:**  
>  DALEKS ARE THE SUPERIOR BEINGS. ATTEMPTS TO THROW DALEKS IN THE RIVER WILL BE MET WITH DEADLY FORCE. DOK-TOR ROYLOTT WILL BE EXTERM... 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Next! 

She slammed the book shut, much to little Davros's disappointment, and counted to twenty this time. 

> _[A knight, dressed all in black armour with a face-concealing visor, stands on the bridge.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  You're just doing this to annoy me, aren't you? 
> 
> _[The knight merely shrugs.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  If I have to count to thirty I'm in danger of losing my audience. Are you going to object to being thrown in the stream? 
> 
> _[The knight shakes his head.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  If that's what we've got to work with, so be it. Cue Dr Roylott. 
> 
> _[Gastridge / Roylott enters and walks up to the knight.]_
> 
> **Knight:**  
>  None shall pass. 
> 
> _[Gastridge / Roylott closes with him and attempts to throw him off the bridge, but finds the armour far too heavy.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  I think you'll have to help him. 
> 
> _[The knight tries to clamber up on the parapet of the bridge, while Gastridge / Roylott attempts to give him a leg up. It takes several goes, but eventually the knight is sitting on the parapet. Gastridge / Roylott recovers his breath, and then shoves him into the stream.]_
> 
> _[In the stream, the knight sits up and removes his helmet, revealing the well-known features of Richard Mace.]_
> 
> **Richard Mace:**  
>  Ah, the sacrifices I make for my art. To be pushed into a stream by such a disreputable member of my own profession. But now I fear I must leave you, my public. _[He stands and starts bowing and kissing his hand to an imaginary audience.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  The only people my stepfather can stand are gypsies and vagabonds. He lets them camp on his estate from time to time. 
> 
> _[The estate again. The TARDIS materialises, and the Second Doctor, Polly and Ben emerge, holding camping equipment.]_
> 
> **Polly:**  
>  Do we have to play itinerants? I don't see why we should go along with this. 
> 
> **Ben:**  
>  Quite agree, Duchess. Let's stage a walkout. What do you think, Doctor? 
> 
> **Second Doctor** _[Plays a few notes on his recorder, then sings]_ :  
>  _♪_ I'm only a strolling vagabond... _♪_
> 
> **Ben:**  
>  Well, so much for that idea. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  He also lets his Indian pets roam the grounds. 
> 
> _[The Myrka lumbers about behind Polly, Ben and the Doctor. A grinning babewyn leans into the foreground of the view and waves.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  Well, exotic pets anyway. So you see it was bad enough even before my sister died. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes** _(vo)_ :  
>  Your sister is dead, then? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  Yes. One year she went to stay with our aunt, and when she came back she was engaged to a half-pay Major of Marines. 
> 
> _[A Victorian Christmas dinner, though there are rather more bottles on the table than there should be. At the head of the table sits Bernice Summerfield, looking somewhat glassy-eyed. Further along, Tegan / Julia is seated next to Mike Yates. The other guests are mere extras.]_
> 
> **Mike:**  
>  Hang on. I'm not a major! 
> 
> _[Tegan / Julia leans over and kisses him.]_
> 
> **Mike:**  
>  And I'm not in the marines! 
> 
> _[Tegan / Julia kisses him again.]_
> 
> **Mike:**  
>  And I'm not on half... 
> 
> _[Tegan / Julia kisses him again, more passionately this time.]_
> 
> **Tegan / Julia:**  
>  I could get used to this. So when are you going to marry me? 
> 
> **Mike:**  
>  Er, what? 
> 
> **Tegan / Julia:**  
>  I prefer short engagements. How about you? 
> 
> **Mike:**  
>  I, I hadn't given it much thought. 
> 
> **Tegan / Julia:**  
>  Short it is, then. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  But she died a fortnight before the wedding. 
> 
> **Mike:**  
>  So can I go now? 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Yes. Be off with you. 
> 
> _[Mike makes his escape, leaving Tegan looking rather disappointed.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes** _(vo)_ :  
>  Now, let's have the details. 
> 
> _[We see Tegan / Julia in her bed, sleeping uneasily. Outside a storm is raging.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. 
> 
> **Tegan / Julia** _[in her sleep]_ :  
>  Please fasten your seatbelts and refrain from smoking. We will be landing shortly. 
> 
> _[She wakes suddenly, tries to get back to sleep, and eventually gets up.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, chatting. 
> 
> _[Nyssa / Helen's room. Tegan / Julia sits on the end of the bed, talking at full speed.]_
> 
> **Tegan / Julia:**  
>  ... And another thing. No way was Border out LBW in that last Test. I reckon the umpire must've been an alien in disguise, because no-one with the slightest ounce of humanity... 
> 
> _[With difficulty, Nyssa / Helen suppresses a yawn.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  At eleven o'clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back. 
> 
> **Tegan / Julia:**  
>  Tell me, Helen. Have you ever heard anyone whistle in the dead of night? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Nope. 
> 
> **Tegan / Julia:**  
>  You don't whistle in your sleep or anything? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Don't be silly. 
> 
> **Tegan / Julia:**  
>  I thought it might be some Trakenite thing. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Why did you ask? 
> 
> **Tegan / Julia:**  
>  Because I've heard someone whistling at about three in the morning these last few nights. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Probably that wretched gypsy chief tootling his recorder. 
> 
> **Tegan / Julia:**  
>  That must be it. Good night. 
> 
> _[She goes back to her own room and locks herself in.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune oppressed me. 
> 
> _[Lightning flashes outside the windows. Gastridge / Roylott's maniacal laughter echoes through the corridors. Sinister music is heard. Track slowly in on a grandfather clock, which shows ten past eleven.]_


	3. Part The Second

> _[The clock now shows quarter past three. The storm is at its height. Suddenly a scream echoes through the house. Nyssa / Helen jumps out of bed, grabs a shawl, and rushes to the door of Tegan / Julia's room. It's locked, so she listens at it.]_
> 
> **Tegan's voice** _[sounding really terrified]_ :  
>  Keep away from me! 
> 
> _[She is answered by a jovial voice with a Yorkshire accent.]_
> 
> **Jovial voice:**  
>  How do, love? Fancy a bit of a cuddle? 
> 
> **Tegan's voice:**  
>  Izzy, get me out of here right now! I don't care what your precious story says! I'm not letting that thing near me! 
> 
> _[Sounds are heard as of vases being thrown and furniture being smashed.]_
> 
> **Jovial voice:**  
>  You're quite the little spitfire. What d'you say to just a couple of minutes' fun together? 
> 
> **Tegan's voice:**  
>  I'd sooner die! 
> 
> **Jovial voice:**  
>  Fair enough. Here goes, then. 
> 
> _[More crashing. The door is unlocked, and Tegan / Julia staggers out, white as a sheet.]_
> 
> **Tegan:**  
>  Nyssa! Run for it! It's — 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Tegan, your method acting is very impressive, but could you please stick to the script? 
> 
> **Tegan:**  
>  You think that was **acting**?! Still, it's too late to do anything about it now. _[With a visible effort, she readopts the character of Julia.]_ It was the band! The speckled band! _[She points at Gastridge / Roylott's door, convulses, and collapses into Nyssa's arms.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister had described. 
> 
> _[Sure enough, she does; she looks around, puzzled. Gastridge / Roylott rushes up in a dressing gown, and bends over Tegan / Julia.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  My stepfather sent for medical aid from the village, but she died without recovering consciousness. 
> 
> _[Daytime. Harry Sullivan is now kneeling beside Tegan / Julia.]_
> 
> **Harry:**  
>  Sorry, nothing to be done. She's snuffed it. 
> 
> _[The inquest. The Brigadier presides.]_
> 
> **Brigadier:**  
>  Gentlemen of the jury, much as I'd like to bring it in wilful murder against the wicked stepfather, the evidence seems to be perfectly clear. The door was locked on the inside, the windows had the shutters barred, and it would be quite impossible for anyone to fit down the chimney. Police Sergeant Benton made a most diligent check of the walls and floor for secret passages and found nothing. You have also heard Doctor Sullivan's evidence that he checked for poison and found none. 

"But Harry couldn't find a goldfish in its own bowl!" interrupted Baby Sarah. Baby Harry retaliated by pulling her hair, and it took Izzy a few moments to restore order. 

> **Brigadier:**  
>  Now consider your verdict. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  Unsurprisingly, they were unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. 
> 
> _[The flashback ends.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Was your sister dressed? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  No; she was in her nightgown. She'd lit the lamp, though. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Ah, so she heard something and tried to see what it was. And were there gypsies around at the time? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Yes. There usually are. 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**  
>  That must be what she meant by a speckled band, then. Don't gypsies sometimes wear speckled headscarves? 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Pray go on with your narrative. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in marriage. 
> 
> _[Flashback again; a Victorian drawing room. Adric / Percy, dressed in period costume, is being pushed into the room by Wesley and Lucas, who are wearing their normal uniforms.]_
> 
> **Wesley:**  
>  Come on, Adric, this is the perfect opportunity! 
> 
> **Lucas:**  
>  You wouldn't even be breaking character. 
> 
> **Wesley:**  
>  All you have to do is ask her... 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Ahem. 
> 
> _[Wesley and Lucas look up and scarper. Nyssa / Helen enters.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  It would have to be you, wouldn't it? I mean, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? 
> 
> _[Adric / Percy goes down on one knee.]_
> 
> **Adric / Percy:**  
>  Um, I, er, wonder if you... 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _[sotto voce]_ :  
>  Get on with it. 
> 
> **Adric / Percy:**  
>  Ah, to put it another way, what would you say if I asked... 
> 
> _[Nyssa snatches up a heavy brass flowerpot and brings it down on his head. He collapses.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Nyssa! 
> 
> **Nyssa:**  
>  Sorry, force of habit. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Can we have an understudy again, please? 
> 
> _[Turlough enters. He leers at Nyssa / Helen.]_
> 
> **Turlough / Percy:**  
>  Hey, doll. How about some hot Trion love? You know you want it. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Lay one finger on me that isn't explicitly stated in the story and I'll scoop out your lungs with my bare hands. 
> 
> _[Turlough turns pale, and beats a hasty retreat. The flashback ends.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  So when are you getting married? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Some time next month. A couple of days ago, I had to move out of my room because of building work. 
> 
> _[Flashback again: Nyssa / Helen's bedroom. Sabalom Glitz is tapping the skirting boards.]_
> 
> **Glitz** _[sucking his teeth]_ :  
>  Ooh, this sounds expensive. Dry rot, I reckon. All have to come out. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  But I can still use the room, can't I, while you're repairing it? 
> 
> **Glitz:**  
>  Oh, no. See, I've got to make sure the, er, fruiting bodies are all accounted for, and that means the window's got to come out as well. And some of the wall. Fruiting bodies. Yeah. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Well, if you're sure. When can you begin? 
> 
> **Glitz:**  
>  I'll take the window out tomorrow, love, but after that I'll be off on another job for a couple of months. Is that all right? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  My stepfather _would_ insist on the lowest bidder, wouldn't he? Get on with it, then. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  And so I moved into my sister's room. 
> 
> _[We see Nyssa / Helen lying in her sister's bed.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _(vo)_ :  
>  Imagine my terror when I suddenly heard in the silence of the night... 
> 
> **Jovial voice:**  
>  Eh up. Here we go again. 
> 
> _[Nyssa / Helen jumps out of bed and lights the lamp. Nothing unusual is to be seen. The flashback ends.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  You did well to see me. Is there anything else I should know? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen** _[hastily]_ :  
>  No. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Show me your wrist. _[Nyssa / Helen does so; it appears bruised.]_ Well I never. You've actually had the makeup done properly this time. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Now look at the other one. 
> 
> _[Sally / Holmes accordingly examines it, and discovers a thin blade up the sleeve.]_
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  I know how to take care of myself during the day. It's what he might do while I'm asleep that worries me. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  This stepfather of yours certainly sounds like a nasty piece of work. We'll come down this afternoon to take a look at the rooms. Now, how about some breakfast? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**  
>  Sorry, I've got to go. Besides, just looking at Victorian breakfasts is enough to make my arteries go rigid. 
> 
> _[She departs.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Well, Watson, what do you make of it? 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**  
>  I cannot imagine. 
> 
> **Sally:**  
>  Come on, Larry, we own a DVD store. Are you trying to tell me you've never watched any films that this reminds you of? 
> 
> **Larry:**  
>  No idea, sorry. 
> 
> **Sally:**  
>  Have a bit of a think about it. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**  
>  Preferably while remaining in character, please. 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**  
>  Well, the only suspects we've got so far are the stepfather and the gypsies. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Sounds good so far. Any idea how we narrow it down? 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**  
>  Let's have the gypsies arrested, and if the whistling stops, then we know it was them. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Arrested? On what charge? 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**  
>  ... Being gypsies? 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  I don't think that's a crime. 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**  
>  Even in Victorian times? 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Not even then. Looks like we need a bit more evidence. Let's go down there this afternoon and see what's what. 
> 
> _[The door suddenly flies open, and Gastridge / Roylott bursts in.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  What the devil... ? 
> 
> **Gastridge / Roylott** _[delivered at full volume, as are all his lines]_ :   
>  Which one of you is Holmes?

"Did somebody order A LARGE HAM?" shouted little Mel. 

The other children applauded and catcalled. Izzy put down the book and glared at them until peace was restored. 

> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  That would be me. 
> 
> **Gastridge / Roylott:**  
>  Hmmph. You're... shorter than I thought you would be. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  And I don't know who you are, but you're still fatter than I imagined. 
> 
> **Gastridge / Roylott:**  
>  I am Doctor Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Pray take a seat. 
> 
> **Gastridge / Roylott:**  
>  I followed my stepdaughter here. What did she tell you?
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Cold for the time of year, isn't it? 
> 
> **Gastridge / Roylott:**  
>  What did she say? Tell me!
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Though the crocuses don't look bad at the moment. 
> 
> **Gastridge / Roylott:**  
>  I will have the truth of this!!
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Don't let the door hit you on your way out. 
> 
> **Gastridge / Roylott:**  
>  If you meddle in my affairs, it will be the worse for you!
> 
> _[He grabs the poker, bends it into a curve, and throws it into the fireplace. Then he storms out again, slamming the door.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**  
>  Charming fellow. Pity he went off so suddenly, or I could have shown him a few tricks of my own. 
> 
> _[She extracts the sonic screwdriver (new-series style) from a pocket of the dressing-gown, picks up the poker, and applies the screwdriver to it._
> 
> _The poker falls neatly in half._
> 
> _Puzzled, she double-checks the settings, and tries again._
> 
> _This time the poker changes into a bunch of flowers._
> 
> _She taps the screwdriver sharply against the mantlepiece, and points it at the flowers._
> 
> _The flowers turn into a stuffed penguin on a stick._
> 
> _As she peers at the screwdriver in puzzlement, fade out.]_


	4. Part The Third

> _[Stoke Moran estate. A path leads across the fields to the tumbledown Manor House. To one side is the TARDIS, with two tents pitched beside it. In front of the tents is a small campfire, unlit. Around it sit Polly (who is indeed wearing a speckled headscarf), Ben, and the Second Doctor. The Doctor is enjoying himself fussing around with the fire, while Polly and Ben just look cold, wet and miserable._
> 
> _Sally / Holmes (now wearing the traditional though non-canonical ulster and deerstalker) and Larry / Watson enter.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Excuse me, is this the way to the manor house? 
> 
> **Polly** _[curtly]_ :  
>  Yes. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes** _[producing the sonic screwdriver]_ :  
>  It looks like you're having trouble there. Do you want a light? 
> 
> **Doctor:**  
>  No thanks, I've got one of my own. 
> 
> _[He produces his own sonic screwdriver, and aims it at the fire, which promptly ignites.]_
> 
> **Ben:**  
>  Why the blazes couldn't you have done that half an hour ago? 
> 
> **Doctor:**  
>  Now, Ben, where would the fun be in that? 
> 
> **Ben:**  
>  We might at least have had something to eat by now! 
> 
> **Polly:**  
>  Leave us alone, you two. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Oh. Goodbye, then. 
> 
> _[They walk to the manor house itself. Nyssa / Helen greets them.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Hello again. Did you know your stepfather came to see us just after you left? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**   
>  No! So, he's following me. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  I'm afraid so. Now, suppose you show us round? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**   
>  What for? 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**  
>  We're going to find out how these gypsies are getting in. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
> **If** the gypsies are getting in. 
> 
> _[They walk around the outside of the house, then go in.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**   
>  Holmes refused to examine Helen's room. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Sorry, but I can't go detecting in a construction site. Health and Safety At Work Act, 1974. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**   
>  Mickey Smith, you've got a lot to answer for. 
> 
> _[They enter Julia's room.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  You bar the windows, and I'll go outside and see if I can break in. 
> 
> _[Helen / Nyssa does so. Sally / Holmes and Larry / Watson leave, and we hear various muffled bumps and thumps.]_
> 
> **Sally's voice:**   
>  Seems pretty impregnable. I don't think your gypsies could have got in after all. 
> 
> **Larry's voice:**   
>  Ah, but didn't the chief gypsy have one of those sonic screwdriver things? 
> 
> **Sally's voice:**   
>  Let's give that a go, then. 
> 
> _[The sound of the screwdriver is heard. The shutters rattle but don't open.]_
> 
> **Sally's voice:**   
>  They must be deadlock sealed. Either that, or I've got the setting wrong. Hang on a moment. 
> 
> _[Several more bursts of screwdriver activity. The shutters remain closed and don't even rattle. There is a flash of coloured light.]_
> 
> **Larry's voice:**   
>  Pretty, I'll give you that. 
> 
> _[Sally / Holmes and Larry / Watson come back in. Nyssa / Helen opens the shutters; the outer surfaces are now etched with psychedelic patterns.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Let's take a look at the room. 
> 
> _[She glances over it.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  That bell-pull looks quite new. What happens if you pull it? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**   
>  Don't know. Never tried. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  What happened to intellectual curiosity round these parts? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**   
>  I think the Myrka ate it. 
> 
> _[Sally / Holmes pulls the rope. It doesn't move.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  That's not much good. It's just a dummy. And why would the builder put that ventilator here on an internal wall, when it should be over there? 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**   
>  If you'd seen the sort of cheap builders my stepfather insists we hire, you'd be amazed that they managed to put it on a wall at all. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes** _[thinks about this]_ :  
>  Reasonable. 
> 
> **Nyssa / Helen:**   
>  What do we do now? 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Well, Watson and I are going down to the pub. 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**   
>  That's the first sensible thing you've said all day. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  We'll be back after your stepfather's gone to bed, and you'll have to be ready to let us in at the window. 
> 
> _[The Crown Inn, which looks suspiciously like a redressed This Time Round. Sally / Holmes and Larry / Watson are sitting at a table, with a number of glasses in front of them]._
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Excellent ale, this. Have you guessed what's going on yet, Watson? 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**   
>  It seems to me, Holmes, that the gypsies couldn't get in through the window. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  So? 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**   
>  I think, right, they're using Devil's-Foot Root. One of them climbs up on the roof at night and drops it down the chimney. Then the fumes build up in the room and poison the occupant. The whistle's a signal that the gypsy's done his stuff, and the ventilator's so that Doctor Roylott can test the air and tell when it's safe to go in. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  I thought you said it was the gypsies doing this? 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**   
>  Yes, but Roylott's obviously the brains behind them. You saw that gypsy leader - he couldn't think his way out of a paper bag. 

Izzy looked up briefly at an incoherent protest from the little Second Doctor, and returned to the book. 

> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  An ingenious hypothesis, my dear Watson. Now explain the bellrope. 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**   
>  Cowboy builders. You heard what Miss Stoner said. Perhaps he got the gypsies to do that as well. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  The scary thing is, your theory is actually quite plausible. Of course, it's completely wrong, me being the detective and you being the sidekick. Drink up, we've got to get back to the house. 
> 
> _[Julia's bedroom. The two detectives approach, not completely steadily, across the lawn. Nyssa / Helen helps them in through the window, and departs.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**   
>  Helen went back to her own bedroom while Holmes and Watson lay in wait. They didn't dare make a sound for fear that Doctor Roylott would hear them and get suspicious. 
> 
> _[Sally / Holmes places a matchbox and candle by the bed. Then she blows out the lamp, and sits down beside Larry / Watson.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**   
>  Then they waited silently in the dark for hours and hours. 
> 
> _[Darkness, in which all we can see are the dim outlines of Sally / Holmes and Larry / Watson, sitting side by side on the bed. In the distance a church clock strikes three.]_
> 
> _[A light is momentarily seen behind the ventilator; then it goes out.]_
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**   
>  Someone in the next room had lit a dark-lantern. Holmes and Watson sat with straining ears. 
> 
> **Jovial voice:**   
>  Right, let's be having yer. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Quick, Watson, a light! 
> 
> _[Larry / Watson strikes a match, but drops it. It lands on the eiderdown, which bursts into flames.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Not quite what I had in mind. 
> 
> _[Larry / Watson grabs the eiderdown, throws it to the floor and stamps on it. But too late: the flames have already spread to the rest of the bedding — and, crucially, the bellrope.]_
> 
> **Jovial voice:**   
>  Ouch! I'm not going down that. 
> 
> **Gastridge's voice:**   
>  Get back in there, you stupid creature!
> 
> **Jovial voice:**   
>  Not for what you're paying me. 
> 
> _[A whip cracks.]_
> 
> **Jovial voice:**   
>  Oh, so you want to play it rough, eh? 
> 
> _[An awful pause, then:]_
> 
> **Gastridge's voice** _[giving it all he's got, and that's a considerable amount]_ :  
>  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**   
>  They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their beds. 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**   
>  No kidding. 
> 
> _[He notices that the bellrope and bed are still on fire, and throws a jug of water over them. Darkness again.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  I think it's all over now. Let's go and check Dr. Roylott's room. 
> 
> _[Gastridge / Roylott's room. Gastridge / Roylott himself is sitting in a chair, apparently dead. On his shoulder is a speckled brown snake._
> 
> _The snake addresses Sally / Holmes in the same Yorkshire accent we heard earlier.]_
> 
> **Snake:**   
>  How do, lass. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  You can talk? 
> 
> **Snake:**   
>  Crikey, she's bright, this one. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Who are you? 
> 
> **Snake:**   
>  I'm usually referred to as the Mara. Pleasure to meet you. Forgive me not shaking hands, but I haven't got any. How d'you feel about a little nibble? 
> 
> _[The snake begins to glide towards Sally and Larry.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Luckily, since I met the Weeping Angels, I always carry one of these. 
> 
> _[From her pocket she extracts a small mirror, and holds it in the snake's face.]_
> 
> **Snake:**   
>  Hmmm. I don't think brown's really my colour. 
> 
> _[It turns red.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  That was supposed to destroy you! 
> 
> **Snake:**   
>  Don't believe everything you hear about me. 
> 
> _[Our gallant detectives back away as the snake advances.]_
> 
> **Snake:**   
>  Dear oh dear. You aren't putting up much of a struggle, are you? That Tegan had a lot more fight in her. Not that it helped her in the end. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Watson, your gun! 
> 
> **Snake:**   
>  Now that's more like it. How's his aim, though? Nice lad, but he don't look the brightest bulb in the chandelier, if you get my meaning. 
> 
> _[Larry / Watson fumbles for his gun and drops it. Trying to reach for it while keeping his eyes on the snake, he stumbles and grabs Sally / Holmes for support. She, in turn, clutches at a tall bookcase, which falls onto the snake. There is a nasty splat, and then silence.]_
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Come on, let's get Miss Stoner to safety. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**   
>  So they took Helen to stay with her aunt in Harrow, and left all the clearing up to the regular police. 
> 
> _[Benton, scratching his head, looks at the scorched remains of the bed, and then writes very slowly in his notebook. We hear his thoughts.]_
> 
> **Benton** _[vo; slowly, as he writes]_ :  
>  Spontaneous human combustion. _[He licks his pencil.]_ That'll be the third this year. 
> 
> _[Benton is now seen standing over Gastridge / Roylott, writing.]_
> 
> **Benton** _(vo)_ :  
>  The bookcase fell over, and the crash gave him such a shock he had a heart attack and died. This detecting lark is easy. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**   
>  And on the way back to London, Holmes explained the mystery to Watson. 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**   
>  So how come, if the snake venom kills in seconds, Julia managed to open the door and give the vital clue before collapsing? 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps the snake didn't get such a good shot at her. 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**   
>  Or perhaps the venom works slowly, so Roylott was still alive when we got to him. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  What an unpleasant thought. But didn't you check his pulse? You're supposed to be the doctor. 
> 
> **Larry / Watson:**   
>  I was a bit busy at the time, what with that snake creature. Let's just say you were right and leave it at that. Astounding, Holmes. 
> 
> **Sally / Holmes:**   
>  Elementary. 
> 
> **Izzy / Narrator:**   
>  And so they all lived happily ever after. Well, the ones who were still alive at the end, anyway. 
> 
> _[The Manor grounds. The Doctor is cooking sausages over his fire. Polly and Ben are trying to warm themselves by it, but they still look cold, wet and miserable.]_
> 
> **Polly:**   
>  And about time too! 
> 
> _[She and Ben dash into the TARDIS. The Doctor continues to cook.]_


	5. Epilogue

As Izzy entered This Time Round that evening, she was accosted by Mickey. 

"Hi," he said amiably. "Jackie said I've got a great case, and I should put my legal team on it first thing tomorrow. I reckon I'll wait a bit, though." 

"Um, thanks, I suppose. But why..." 

Mickey's smile widened. "Because first, I wanna see what's left after Tegan's dealt with you." 

Tegan, apparently overhearing her name, turned sharply and noticed Izzy. 

"There you are!" she snarled, advancing menacingly. 

"Tegan, please, be reasonable," entreated Izzy. 

"Reasonable? _Reasonable?_ You lock me in a room with the bloody **Mara** and you expect me to be reasonable?" 

"But it wasn't me. It was the book. I didn't choose you." 

"You could have made it choose someone else!" 

"I didn't realise..." 

"What? All that shouting and screaming and you just thought I was acting?" 

"Well... Yes." 

"Well, no. You try being locked in with your worst nightmare and you're supposed to let it stick its fangs in you, and see how frightened you can act. Why didn't you get me out when I asked you to?" 

"Honestly, I don't think I could have." 

"Why not? You recast Mickey, and all he complained about was getting wet." 

"But that was at the beginning of his part. You'd done nearly all your scenes. Please, Tegan, it was just a story..." 

This seemed to be exactly the wrong thing to say. Tegan, her expression that of a Fury, struck out. Had Mickey not grabbed her shoulder, the blow would undoubtedly have connected. Even using all his strength, he seemed to be having difficulty restraining her. 

"I'll, er, see you all tomorrow," said Izzy hastily, and ran for it. 

She didn't dare look back to see if Tegan had managed to break free from Mickey, but as she sprinted away another uncomfortable thought struck her. 

Had that been a snake tattoo on Tegan's arm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * "Doctor Who" is the property of the BBC.
>   * Sherlock Holmes was created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The original story 'The Adventure Of The Speckled Band' is in the public domain.
>   * This Time Round was created by Tyler Dion.
>   * Look Who's Talking was the brainchild of Imran Inayat.
>   * Storytime was invented by BKWillis.
>   * The Mara's Yorkshire accent, immunity to its reflection and jovial attitude come from a fanvid I once saw many years ago: a parody of _Kinda_ , with all the characters played by puppets.
>   * "Did somebody order **A LARGE HAM?** ": As suggested on [TV Tropes](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LargeHam). Little Mel obviously spends far too much time reading that site, or having it read to her.
> 



End file.
